


I'll play God

by nea_writes



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Allen tries to be good really, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Gen, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Minor Character Death, Moving On, Wish Fulfillment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-15 03:28:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10549308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nea_writes/pseuds/nea_writes
Summary: They say that when you are alone, he comes.There is no letter, or call, or any message. He will be beside you, kindly, a hand outstretched. He will ask you, "What is your heart's greatest desire?"And he will come at such a time that, when asked, you will answer.Then, he'll smile."There is only a small price to pay."





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I've been thinking about for months, and it all started with the simple premise of:  
> What if Allen was the villain?

_Outskirts of Lagos, Portugal, 1886_

 

There hadn't really been a choice.

"Will you come with me?"

It wasn't even a question.

He looked around him and at the decimated town he'd called home for the past week, sitting at a cold gravestone and cursing until blood drenched into the earth, soaked the soil and bloomed lilies of red around him. The sky was fever-bright, overwhelming, the moon's eye boring down on him relentlessly. There was no shelter from God, not even at night.

"I'll grant your heart's greatest desire."

He didn't even know what that was. All he knew was that soothing touch, that broad smile, the golden eyes that gleamed bright as the sun when they looked at him. All he knew was a clown's old tricks, a card up a sleeve and down another, saying look, here, isn't this yours? A joker, a club, a diamond, a spade, a heart.

"It's a small price to pay."

His nails were encrusted with dirt and his hair hung lank, and still he'd refused to move for days, curled tight around his knees when he wasn't sobbing into the earth, desperate, betrayed, heart broken.

"Come with me."

Who here would miss him? Who here would wait? His home had never been a place, a house, a time or even a space. It'd been one person. Someone who'd seen a broken child and raised him whole, stitched until he could manage a grin and sewed until he could laugh.

Allen looked up at Mana's blank eyes and rose to his knees, reaching for Mana's outstretched hand, that awe-inspiring moon bright behind him.

Even if he didn't know him, Allen would follow Mana anywhere.

He stepped through the shining white door after the Millenium Earl and didn't look back.


	2. What could have been

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Through the endless daydream, I saw you  
>  On the way back  
> There I walk with you in my arms._
> 
> The beginning of this has been written since four months ago. It's a relief to finally post it, despite not being wholly satisfied with it.

_Santa Monica, California, 2016_

_Summer_

 

Kanda's breath ran ragged as he slowed to a jog, approaching a bench on the side of the path. This early in the morning the park was empty of any other soul, the sky pale with dawning light. It was a pain in the ass to get up this early, but he preferred the solitude and space it gave him over any other time of the day.

His heart ran a mile a minute, and it wasn't because of his run. He collapsed on to the bench and curled over, heaving and cupping his face between his knees. God, fuck, why couldn't he just forget?

He needed to calm down, but the run hadn't fucking helped. It terrified him, how hard his chest heaved and how wild his heartbeat; the way his fingers couldn't stop trembling and the nausea rising at the back of his throat.

He wanted it to stop, to calm down, to just _breathe._

"Are you okay?"

The voice startled him into a shaking breath that nearly made him vomit, and he whirled up and around to face the stranger sitting beside him, fire building in his lungs. "What the _fuck_ does it look like!"

The stranger held his hands up, eyes wide. A moment passed filled only with Kanda's insanity, and he hated the way the stranger's eyes fell soft, his hands dropping to his knees. He looked as washed out as the dawn, cool and pale and barely there. How had Kanda not noticed him approaching?

 _I'm going fucking insane!_ He thought bitterly, covering his eyes from the too soft sight. His life was not meant for gentle pleasures or fluttering touches.

 _Oh, Alma,_ he mourned, inevitably reminded once more of what he'd lost.

It’d only been a few months. Just three. Three months, five days.

He took a shuddering breath, mortified at how much he’d lost control. Ever since he’d seen Alma’s skin go pale, felt his heart go quiet, seen that last pained breath release, it’d plagued him.

Sleeping, waking, eating, any time anywhere — all Kanda saw was Alma.

Running worked. It blocked everything out except his breathing and the pounding of his feet on asphalt chilled by morning dew. But then he stopped and like a dam bursting everything overwhelmed him again.

He just wanted it all to stop, to forget, to have never even met Alma.

He just wanted to see Alma again.

It almost felt like a nightmare. Nothing felt real — fleeting, surreal. He couldn’t remember last week or the day before or even yesterday. It’d all blurred in his grief.

How did you cope with losing the one constant in your life?

Before anyone else, there had been Alma. As far back as he can remember Alma was there, and before even then Alma had existed. Kanda couldn’t stop looking for him, turning around to where he should be, shuddering at ghostly touches on his arms, ears ringing from calls that didn’t exist.

Everyone thought Kanda was managing his grief, but the reality was that tomorrow was dead to him. The moment Alma’s heart had stopped, Kanda’s had too.

The voice came to him as if through a fog, not distorted but blurred, edges softened.

_Can I help you?_

“Nothing you could do,” Kanda spat into his palms, fingers over his eyes still. He couldn’t feel the sharp bite of his elbows on his knees, and dimly knew he was probably hurting himself.

_What if I gave you the one thing you want?_

Kanda knew what he wanted. It was all he had ever wanted.

“I don’t play with what if’s,” Kanda said. No use to it. Unless they could become reality, Kanda had no patience or time to spare for them.

_What if I could?_

If he could… then, Kanda would do anything for it.

_Are you sure?_

“Fuck off,” Kanda mumbled. “Do it or don’t, just leave me the fuck alone.”

_As you wish._

Kanda pressed against his eyes hard enough to see stars, bright and brilliant and all consuming.

* * *

Kanda turned over, and love blossomed in his chest, his sigh so heartfelt it rattled him to know he was so affected.

Beside him, softly asleep, was Alma.

He wasn't the type to cry, but the relief was so strong it burned. _Alma, Alma, Alma_ , he was _alive._ His death had just been a long nightmare, and Kanda was used to those, yes, but this one had felt so real.

He fumbled under the sheets for Alma's hand, grasped it tight and brought his knuckles to his mouth, pressing a kiss there, and then to his forehead, holding it. Alma was still asleep and Kanda hoped it would last long enough for him to regain himself.

Grief still had a hold of him though, and his throat began to ache with it. Like a broken toy all he could think, again and again, was _Alma, Alma, Alma._

_Don’t leave me again._

Alma breathed in deeply, sighing, and Kanda knew he was waking up. He scrambled to put himself together, but before he could reassemble his broken heart Alma’s eyes opened.

They landed on him with unerring focus and Kanda’s heart trembled at the force of Alma’s love there.

“Good morning,” Alma whispered, his free hand coming up to caress Kanda’s face.

Kanda still couldn’t speak past the overwhelming ache in his throat and he desperately wanted to glance away to hide his shame, but he couldn’t dare look away. In the space of a dream Kanda had forgotten the shade of Alma’s eyes, the way his hair fell in his sleep, the odd light freckle here and there.

He memorized it now, as if afraid. He didn’t know dreams could be so powerful.

“Yuu?” Alma murmured, hand fully cupping Kanda’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Overly sentimental thoughts used to mortify Kanda, but right now all he felt was the solace that he could think them at all.

Nothing, he wanted to say. Not a thing. Not anymore.

Instead, he shifted Alma’s hand in his, bringing it back to his lips. Alma’s cheeks reddened, because Kanda wasn’t so affectionate. All of this was probably so out of the blue, for Alma. Yesterday, everything had been fine.

Something about that caught hold of Kanda, churning unease, but Alma was shifting, bringing their hands away to kiss Kanda.

Kanda accepted it easily, eagerly, gratefully. Arms full of Alma, senses overwhelmed, that unending relief and love — for once he’d graciously welcome it all.

The dream was finally ebbing away to be forgotten, the only reminder in the way his nerves remained high strung, taut enough to snap, the fear coiling around his heart. He pulled Alma close enough until he couldn’t figure where he ended and Alma began, and it was good.

Dreams didn’t matter when the reality was that Alma was here in his arms, alive, healthy, laughing.

“Someone woke up on the right side of the bed today,” Alma said wryly once he’d pulled away some. It was a first, too, that Alma ever pulled away, but Kanda just couldn’t make himself let go.

But at least the choke-hold on him was gone. “Shut up,” Kanda muttered, bringing Alma back to at least hold tight. “Just… be quiet.”

Alma, sensitive as always, caught on. They settled, Kanda tucked under Alma’s chin, arms wrapped around each other. Alma smelled like sleep, the wind, like lying down a field beneath an endless blue sky.

His eyes burned and he didn’t let the tears fall, no, but he mouthed his pleas into Alma’s skin, an endless litany that Alma didn’t mention but simply smoothed his hair back for.

This was all he needed.

 

Ever since the nightmare Kanda had become more possessive. He recognized this in himself, but he couldn’t help it. He tried hard not to let it show, but Alma was intuitive and, well. Alma’s whole life was Kanda, unarguably. Any change in Kanda was noticeable.

It was an overcast day, the kind that made Alma antsy and generally moody. They sat on their sofa, watching some current drama Kanda couldn’t remember the name nor plot of but was forced to watch weekly.

“Hey, Yuu,” Alma began, curled into Kanda’s side and tucked into the circle of his arms. “What happened?”

Kanda knew immediately what he was talking about. It had only been a few weeks.

Still, he remained quiet.

“You’ve been different,” Alma said, voice low, as if afraid it’d send Kanda running. He almost wanted to scoff. Kanda didn’t run anymore, anyways.

He frowned again, mind caught. When had he ever run?

“It’s always a bit hard to tell what you’re thinking,” Alma continued, and Kanda finally pulled back enough to meet Alma’s eyes. “You have to say something, Yuu.”

“Say what?” Kanda demanded, but the words fell flat and weak.

Alma just sighed, shaking his head and leaning back against Kanda’s chest, eyes focusing on the television. It washed his rich blue eyes pale, leeching life and color. It unnerved Kanda enough that his hand jerked in an impulsive move to cover Alma’s eyes. He stilled it, though, glancing away.

The discontent filled the cracks between them.

 

It had been months now and Kanda could barely recall what had started it all.

All he knew was that something was wrong and it was buried deep. Like the roots of a tree that’d grown and lived side by side with another, the time had come for one of them to be uprooted.

“You never tell me anything!” Alma snapped, chest heaving, standing across the table from Kanda. It felt as if he was light years away.

“I don’t know what you want me to fucking say!” Kanda flung the words with the intent to hurt, because their arguments were always like this.

“Anything, Yuu, anything at all! Jesus, it’s like I’m living with a ghost!”

That stung Kanda hard and he hissed, drawing back. “You’re so fucking spoiled,” Kanda growled, nursing his wounds. He wasn’t even sure why the statement hurt so much, only that it did.

“I’m spoiled,” Alma repeated with a laugh, disbelieving. “I’m spoiled because I want my boyfriend to fucking talk to me? God, sometimes you drive me insane.”

Kanda turned away, dismissive, and knew the moment he did that it was the wrong move to make. Alma stormed around the table and grabbed Kanda by his collar, fisting it and jerking him close. Kanda’s immediate reaction to violence was always to counter and shove back and he did, hard enough that Alma landed against the counter side of their kitchen.

The anger and violence bled from him and left him numb, fingertips tingling. “Alma,” he murmured, eyes wide. Alma’s hands had instinctively grasped the edge of the counter, and he was so still it reminded Kanda in flashes of something nigh forgotten.

“Alma, I’m,” Kanda paused, lips pressed against each other. Alma, the only person he’d ever apologize to, but also the hardest one to do so.

“Don’t say it,” Alma spat at last, glaring hard at his shoes. “It doesn’t even matter.”

He pushed off and left, and the front door slammed hard enough to rattle the frame and shelves. Kanda stood in the middle of their kitchen, hopelessly staring after him.

Something had gone horribly wrong, and like trees side by side, their tangled roots were being pulled apart as they fell.

 

After, Alma came and left, came and left. Sometimes he stayed days, weeks, sometimes he was gone for just as long. It drove Kanda insane. Where had it gone wrong? What had happened? He couldn’t even pick just one reason. There were too many.

Time stretched endlessly, long enough that he couldn’t see it’s end, and like the horizon it blurred and became indistinct. All he knew were the moments Alma were there, and the ones he was gone.

It felt like nothing existed outside of them.

He sat up in their bed and looked down at Alma. He was still asleep, laying on his stomach and arms folded under his pillow, lashes soft against his cheek. It was dark, some time late in the night. Kanda wasn’t even sure what had woken him, but in the quiet of darkness he felt relieved no one could see him.

How could he fix this?

He felt distant from himself even as he reached out to touch Alma’s shoulder. The movement easily woke him, and Alma met his eyes even through the darkness. He guided Alma’s shoulder until Alma fell flat on his back, and leaned down to kiss him.

Despite it all, Alma didn’t reject him. He never had.

But it all tasted sour, rotten, decaying. Kanda pulled away and drew his knees up, arms resting along them.

The silence was so profound he could almost hear Alma’s tears fall.

 

The only way they seemed to talk nowadays was though arguments.

“I can’t stand you!” Kanda snapped, hands twitching with the urge to do something. “I can’t stand what you fucking did to me!”

“I didn’t do shit!” Alma was more tactile by nature and he was prowling back and forth to keep from grabbing at Kanda, fiercely alive in the way his chest heaved and his voice shook.

“Then do something,” Kanda said, “and leave.”

Alma shuttered to a stop, staring blindly away. Kanda could only see his profile but his eyes were wide. He turned to face Kanda as if lost in a fog, wading through an ocean threatening to drown him. “What?”

 _“Leave_ already!” Kanda’s words weren’t any nicer or crueler but the same steady frigid tone. “If I make you so damn unhappy, then fucking leave!”

Alma reared back and Kanda could see how everything collapsed.

 

Alma was gone.

* * *

Kanda woke with a heart wrenching gasp that left him dizzy, eyes wide open but seeing nothing.

It was so bright he couldn’t discern a single thing, and he focused on settling his heart rate, controlling his breath. Minutes or an hour later, he wasn’t sure, he was finally able to define the ceiling above him.

It wasn’t familiar.

“You’re finally awake?”

The soft voice, age-old, decades long, still as water, came to him as if from a dream. He jerked up and instantly felt light-headed, cradling his forehead in an attempt to stave off the wash of nausea as he sat fully. “What… the fuck…”

“It took a while,” they continued. Kanda squinted, trying to focus. Everything fell into place slowly, honey dripping a glaze over warm colored walls and wooden floors, elegant furniture surrounding a richly stained coffee table. He had no idea where he was at.

And, in the middle of the earth and fire was a pale washed out figure.

Kanda’s eyes grew wide as his senses finally adjusted, twisting his torso to fully face the strange image, legs stretched out on a couch he’d woken up from. All of him felt numb.

“You…”

Their sun-bright eyes lit up, pleased. “You remember me?”

A dream mostly forgotten, gentle morning gaze, lips curving in a smile Kanda realized years too late was more predatory than kind. _You did something to me._

“You lasted longer than most, so I suppose everything must feel odd to you now.”

Lasted longer? Now? Where was he and how did he get here? There was so many questions they tangled in their efforts to get out and all he could do was gape, lost and confused. What the _fuck_ was going on?

“I’m sorry, this must all be very confusing to you. We met a long while ago.” They shifted and stood from their seat and slowly became defined. Less light and overwhelming presence and more gray eyes and kind smiles. “My name is Allen Walker. You bargained your soul for a wish you ultimately did not fulfill.”

Like shattering glass clarity came to Kanda and rage grew within him in leaps and bounds until he lurched off the sofa on unsteady legs, wrapped his hands around the wraith’s throat and squeezed until bones and blood alike became malleable in his grip.

He didn’t realize he wasn’t breathing until he was slammed back into the couch and what little had been in his lungs was knocked from him. He bent over and coughed, looking up through watering eyes to find a blond man standing fiercely in front of the other.

“You took him from me,” Kanda said through burning lungs. “You ruined me!”

Allen slowly shook his head, and a hand on the blond man’s shoulder had him immediately backing off to the side. Allen came and knelt before Kanda, and even if Kanda had the energy to attack him again he had already realized that the first attempt had been purposefully allowed.

“I gave you a chance,” Allen said, in words so carefully chosen they could only be the truth. “What you ruined with your own hands is a fault that lies with no one but yourself.”

Kanda wasn’t a man made of denial, but even this — it was too much to bear.

“I gave you the one thing you wanted and you broke it yourself.”

Allen had granted his wish and Kanda had squandered it, unknowing, unthinking, as if it was fate for Alma and he to fall to ruin.

“Welcome to Noah’s Ark.”

* * *

They never did take it well.

Well, it was a little cruel of Allen to ask them too. He left Kanda in his new — temporary — home and walked slowly back to his, Link just a step behind him. They continued in silence until they reached the house they shared, where Allen dropped with a sigh into an armchair and Link busied himself brewing tea.

With a flick of his fingers he withdrew a card, twisting it in his hands. It was a new one. An ace of diamonds. Another flick displayed the back.

It was grotesque like the rest of his cards were. Blood stained feathers and petals, hair melting into oceans, mourning and grief and rage. A powerful card.

When Link approached Allen tucked the card into his sleeve, sitting up and greeting him with a smile. Remembering suddenly, Allen accepted his offered cup of tea and murmured, “Thank you for your help.”

As expected Link looked down, abashed. Allen wasn’t entirely sure what Link’s wish had been - he refused to pry even when he had the ability to - but reactions like this spoke thousands of words towards the story Allen had slowly formed.

“It was nothing,” Link said at last, holding the tray securely. “He was driven mad.”

Link’s tone was kept even but Allen could still hear the very small thread of disapproval. He sipped at his tea instead of commenting on it, thinking. “He’s a hard type to handle,” Allen said. But not impossible, so long as Allen could direct his rage.

Best to let Kanda think it’d all been real. That he’d spent more time with Alma Karma than he had. It was well within Allen’s means to bring Alma back, but bringing a person back was more trouble than simply plucking another out of time. Time hadn’t moved for Kanda since Allen had granted his wish, up until the very moment he’d broken it and woken up. In the real word, Kanda will be declared missing and over time, presumed dead, following after the tragic loss of his lover.

It was a romantic tale, Allen thought. One the Earl would appreciate.


End file.
